


the kind of girl you like (is right here with me)

by londongrammar



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, a tour of scott's mysterious bedroom, and mutual oral because this is a democracy, ilderton party shenanigans, this is really dirty sooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 04:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15597867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londongrammar/pseuds/londongrammar
Summary: “Wait for ten seconds, and then follow me,” he says, and turns to walk towards the house in a quick pace. For a beat he isn’t sure if he’s making the right call; there’s not much time, and this is the kind of careless, exciting mistake he used to make when he didn’t know better. Maybe, he thinks, he shouldn’t throw caution to the wind. Then, he hears the footsteps behind him.Oh,yes.*or, an interlude at the Thank You Ilderton party.





	the kind of girl you like (is right here with me)

**Author's Note:**

> me before the ilderton party: it's cool, i don't have any expectations, it's all fine  
> me after the ilderton party: i'm so used to giving and now i get to RECEIVE
> 
> dedicated to the awesome friends that helped make this happen. you know who you are.
> 
> title is from _partition_ by beyoncé, because sometimes it be like that.

 

“Are you busy?”

 

The voice is so low he almost doesn’t hear it. He just downed his third bottle of water in one hour, a result of the heat and sunshine that has been the setting of this fine day. He did wish that the rain and clouds of the previous days would go away, but he didn’t really imagine what it would be like to sit on hot Mustang steel for an hour, or running around four acres in a frenzy of activity, friendly chatter, selfies and drinking, mostly by others. People have been buying him beers left and right, and if he drank more than a few sips from every one of them, he’d surely be tipsy by now. But he has to stay hydrated because there’s a few hours to go in this party, and he wants to be in top shape until the end. He’s been waiting for this day for too damn long, and he’s determined to make the most of it.

 

Every step of the way, this town and its people rallied behind him and Tessa. Everywhere he’d go, for years, he’d meet people who looked at him proudly, as if he were their own son or brother, thanking him as if he had made a difference in their lives. In the first few years he’d get bashful, because he really didn’t know how to thank _them_ for the support. And then, years later, he’d get ashamed, because they weren’t supposed to thank him for letting them, and _himself,_ down. He stopped being so willing to talk to everyone, except when they would catch him between his fifth and sixth drink of the night and by then he was everyone’s friend again; he didn’t know (or remember) who he talked to, or what he said to them. But when he got himself out of his stupor and got his ass to work, they were there again, to cheer and support him, as if nothing had ever gone wrong. On the way back from the London airport at the end of February, he counted the _Scott and Tessa_ signs on people’s lawns, on squares and churches and stores and schools, until his eyes were too blurry with tears, and he couldn’t count anymore.

 

“I wanna throw a party”, he told Tess, as they were making breakfast in her kitchen, back in March. Or rather, as _he_ was making breakfast and she was leaning against his back with her arms around him, toying with the hem of his shirt and putting the french toast he was making in severe danger of being left to burn. “I wanna do something for the people, and for us too. I want to thank them, I feel like I owe it to them. Just a big backyard party, get some music, some games, call it _Thank You-_ ”

 

“‘- _Ilderton,_ ” she said a smile. “ _Thank you Ilderton._ Let’s do it.”

 

“Isn’t that too specific, though?” he said, without hiding the concern in his voice. “It has to be for both of us, and Ilderton…”

 

“…is your hometown, your family, and mine too,” she said, reaching for his hand, and his heart felt fit to burst. “Let’s do it.”

 

And so he got to work, coming up with ideas, running them by Tessa and getting her trusted opinion, seeing if they were feasible and then making them come true, with the help of his family and most of all, the indomitable, fearless, superhuman saviour of the Moir clan, Cara.It all came to fruition today, and he still can’t quite believe the turnout they’ve had. The parade earlier was magic, love flowing towards him and Tessa from everywhere. The euphoria around the fairgrounds is palpable, and he’s so happy and proud at the success of this party that he could do the Macarena. He already did one silly dance today, and on stage too, so what’s one more?

 

These last five minutes in the VIP area was the first break he really took today, and he was just about to get back into the grind when the voice came. She thinks he didn’t hear her the first time, and she repeats the question.

 

“Are you busy, Mr. Moir?”

 

He turns around, a friendly smile already on his face. She’s smiling back, although the smile is less straightforward and more mysterious than he would imagine. It looks like an _invitation._

 

He should have expected this.

 

“Not at all. Are you enjoying herself?”

 

“Very. It’s all been extremely well-organised, you should be proud of yourself,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The universal sign.

 

“Well, we had a lot of help. The town really rallied behind us to make this party a success, we couldn’t ask for anything more.”

 

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, and her smile is more like a smirk now. “Where _is_ your partner, anyway? I haven’t seen her around in a while,” she adds cheekily.

 

“She went to take a break,” he says automatically, getting defensive on pure instinct. He’s heard the digs from people who like to talk out of their ass, about things they know nothing about. He and Tessa have a concrete, long plan for what’s to come, and she’s been working really hard to set the proper foundations and make everything work out as smoothly as possible, probably even harder than he is.

 

“That’s nice,” the cheeky girl says. “We all deserve to kick back and relax. Enjoy ourselves a little bit.”

 

She reaches out a hand to touch his forearm, and stays.

 

His eyes roam down her body, and he makes a mental note of little details along the way. Her shoulders are marked by thin tan lines, acquired by long, languid days in the sun. Her dress is bunched up a little in the middle, as if she hiked it up a little before she came to talk to him, now stopping just short of her ass. As she begins to run her hand up and down his arm she juts out her chest and he notices the swell of her breasts, a little too close to him.

 

Oh, this is _definitely_ an invitation.

 

He hears buzzing in his pocket and reluctantly, he takes out his cellphone. _are you changed yet?_ Cara says in an iMessage. And then: _have you seen Tessa? she needs to get changed too, Paul will be here in half an hour._

 

He puts the phone back in his pocket and smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, it was nice chatting to you, but I have to get going.”

 

Her face drops. “What? Why?”

 

“I have to go back to my house and get changed,” he explains. “We’ll be introducing our headlining act soon.”

 

“I could go with you, if you like,” she says, not with a smile, but with an intense look in her eyes. “I could use five minutes of air conditioning, this heat is unbearable.”

 

The suggestion is pretty clear. He weighs his options for a second. In the distance, he sees Cara and Danny walk around among the party crowd, quite possibly looking for him to tell him to get a move on. Any second now they’ll spot him, and he’ll miss his shot for whatever _this_ is. He has to make a decision, and quickly. He looks down at the hand that has started pressing a little on his veins, and then back at the face of pure, shameless lust.

 

“Wait for ten seconds, and then follow me,” he says, and turns to walk towards the house in a quick pace. For a beat he isn’t sure if he’s making the right call; there’s not much time, and this is the kind of careless, exciting mistake he used to make when he didn’t know better. Maybe, he thinks, he shouldn’t throw caution to the wind. Then, he hears the footsteps behind him.

 

Oh, _fuck yes_.

 

He reaches the entrance of the house, opens the door quietly, and almost tiptoes through the living room, because going unnoticed by his aunts and uncles in the kitchen is key at this point. He looks behind him and sure enough, she’s following, head held up high and eyes burning with something that he has sorely missed. He tries to contain himself and not skip up the stairs; he’s just reached the top when he feels a strong, relentless grip on his arm, turning him around and pushing him against the nearest wall.

 

She doesn’t give him any time to react, slanting her lips over his and licking into his open mouth. She presses her body against his, shoulders to toes, and as she comes into contact with his dick, he hisses painfully.

 

“Sensitive, are we?” she whispers into his mouth, and hitches up one leg against his hip. “I heard you say you’re single on TV, how long has it been since you’ve had pussy?”

 

“Too long,” he says in a choked voice, and a shiver goes down his spine at her words. She holds his head against the wall with one hand, exposing his neck and kissing down his jawline and his beating pulse point. She sinks her teeth into the tender spot and he gasps, so loudly that he thinks the people downstairs may have heard. She chuckles.

 

“Don’t you worry, I won’t leave a mark. You already have a bruised eye, we don’t want you to have a bruised neck too.”

 

He lets out a laugh, but none of this is funny. He is painfully hard and needs to do something about it, _now_ , with nine thousand people waiting for him just outside the door.

 

He manages to make her let out a yelp of surprise, when he puts one hand underneath her ass and lifts her up easily. She wraps both arms and legs around him, and he starts to move in the direction of his childhood bedroom. With his free hand, he opens the door, takes them both inside and shuts it as quietly as he can, which is to say, not quietly at all. He sends out a prayer that all the ruckus from the party is drowning out all the noise they’ve made and all the noise they’re about to (hopefully) make, as he sets her down on his narrow bed and crawls on top of her.

 

She opens her eyes and grins.

 

“So this is the mythical bedroom of Scott Moir. The one no girl has ever been in,” she says teasingly.

 

“Well, not exactly, I’ve just never fucked anyone in here,” he retorts, and it’s true. He’s never had sex with a girl in here, since he essentially moved out on his own at a very young age, when fooling around under your parents’ roof is the norm. This is going to be a first.

 

“I can see why,” she says as she looks around the room with a twinkle in her eye. They’re lying on top of Maple Leafs bed covers, which Scott is convinced is his mother’s way of trolling him, since there is no way she doesn’t have other, more neutral and less embarrassing bed covers around the house. His walls are decorated with the heroes of his very early teens, and a giant Ed Belfour is judging them from the right corner. He tries not to look at the familiar faces in the frames hanging next to the bed, depicting, among other things, an ice cream day in Kitchener-Waterloo with Suzanne, whom he last saw an hour ago by the beer stand, chatting with his mom.

 

(There’s also Marina, Igor, and the magnificent thrill of the first Virtue/Moir junior Canadian title, during their first year at Canton, with him looking inexplicably bored and Tessa looking incandescently happy.

 

He remembers why he looks bored. This was his mask of choice because he was trying not to burst into tears. About thirty minutes earlier, in the dressing room where they celebrated their victory with a warm embrace, he had come to the realization that he had feelings for Tessa. Two minutes after that, he had come to the realization that he had _no business_ having feelings for Tessa, because he wasn’t supposed to mess her up. And for the twenty eight minutes after that, he had been busy nodding along and feigning indifference, as he repeated to himself, again and again, that he could fall in love with someone else in no time.

 

He couldn’t.)

 

“Where did you go off to?” he hears a voice break him away from his reverie, and it’s enough to bring him back.

 

He’s _here_.

 

“I’m here,” he says, and he bends down to kiss the woman that lies underneath him. She gets into it right away, and they make out passionately, trying to breathe through their noses and each other, so they don’t end the connection. He’s so hungry for this, so starved that he barely notices that his body has a mind of his own, and his hips have started rolling into hers over their clothes, with an increasing tempo, until she tears her mouth from his and throws her head back with a deep moan. Her breathing is labored, rough, and right now he’s so turned on he could come inside his shorts. He buries one hand in her hair and turns her face to make her look at him, while with the other he reaches underneath her dress and feels her panties, soaked through, ruined.

 

“I don’t want you to take this dress off,” he tells her as he looks into her eyes and begins to rub tight circles over the fabric. “I want to rip it off you, throw it away and eat you out until you come so hard your entire body shakes.”

 

She whimpers, and the sound is something like a drowned version of his name. She doesn’t break eye contact, and that’s what makes him tighten his grip in her hair.

 

“Do you want that? Tell me.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes, what?” he insists. Her hips come off the bed to push against his hand.

 

“Yes, rip it off,” she says in a choked whisper. “Make me shake, do what you want.”

 

“Fuck,” he gasps, reaching behind her back to find the flimsy straps of her dress, tying around her neck. He pulls, and the dress comes apart in a swift movement. He starts pushing it down her body, and her tits roll free. He bends down and bites one nipple, almost as if to punish her for not wearing a bra. He wasn’t ready to see her like this. He pushes the dress the rest of the way down and he sneaks his hand inside her panties to play with her.

 

“How long have you been wet?”

 

“All day,” she moans, while he rolls his tongue around her breasts. “I’ve been watching you and waiting for you, all day.”

 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says, and he means it. “You won’t have to wait any more.”

 

He crawls down her body, making sure to taste every part of her he can reach. He licks the line of her abs and kisses the belly button ring, before reaching the spot he wants to cherish the most. The smell of her sex overwhelms him, and he pushes her panties aside to marvel at her. She is so ready, her lips glistening and contracting already, and so he doesn’t waste a second before ripping the panties off, bending down and pushing his tongue inside.

 

She comes off the bed with a throaty _Scott_ , and the way her pelvis angles gives him perfect access. He wraps one arm around her ass and presses an elbow against her stomach, to keep her where he wants, and then he begins. He licks against her folds again, moving his tongue in and out of her, tasting the heat before it trickles down her thighs. She buries one hand in his hair, that has already grown long enough to tug, and begs, _please, harder._ He nibbles and sucks until she starts to make incoherent noises, and then he moves the arm that’s on her stomach low, so he can pump two fingers inside, easy. She groans loudly.

 

“Play with your nipples,” he mumbles into her heated flesh, looking up at her just as hotly. “I want to watch you.”

 

She does as he says, squeezing and pinching her nipples, moaning at the touch, rolling her hips against his face, pulling his hair hard enough to make him dizzy. They look at each other when he pushes a third finger in, when she says _faster_ , when he quickens the pace and feels her open up to take it. He aggressively sucks on her clit, his cheeks hollowing, and as he pushes his dick rhythmically into the mattress, desperate to relieve the ache, he watches her. Her mouth drops wide open but no sound comes out, and then she finally breaks eye contact to throw her head back, her back and breasts arched so high, her stomach muscles pulled taut.

 

She comes in waves. The orgasm overtakes her body slowly, and she bucks erratically against Scott’s hand and mouth, her legs shooting out and her thighs trembling next to his head. It moves up to her torso and it looks for a moment like she’s struggling for air, until finally she breathes in and finds her voice again. No recognizable words come out though, just one loud moan, that goes on and on as he pumps his fingers in and out, wringing out her release for as long as he can. The aftershocks wrack through her beautiful body and as her moan turns into his name on a low whimper, he slows his movements, bending down to lick every drop coming out of her body.

 

He sits up on his heels, takes off his shirt and takes a moment to really look at her. He loves seeing her like this, wrecked and fucked out of her mind, almost as much as he loves seeing her strong and powerful, conquering peak after peak. He makes his way up her body and drops down on his forearms over her, ghosting his lips over hers. Once upon a time he might have hesitated to do this, except he knows she _loves_ it. He did this for them both, long ago. He told her all his secrets and in exchange she told him all of hers, confessed them one by one, in moments of surrender much like this one. So it’s not a surprise when she juts out her tongue to lick his lips, and then she kisses him slowly, deeply, in silent claiming.

 

“I thought you wanted to come up here so you could change,” she murmurs against his mouth.

 

“I did.”

 

“So, let’s get you changed.”

 

She flips them around on the narrow bed, and there’s the strength he knows and loves. She’s mostly recovered now, and there’s a twinkle in her eye that he knows means he’s done for. She reaches down to the button on his shorts, and he gasps, the feels of her fingers this close to him almost too much to take. He clenches his jaw and concentrates, letting her pull the zipper down all the way. It’s her turn to gasp as his cock juts out on to his stomach. He lifts up his ass to let her drag his clothes away, and then she slides down his body and kneels with her ass up in the air.

 

She takes him into her mouth, suckling the head of his cock before sliding him deeper into her throat. She has one hand stroking up and down the base of his dick, and he loses track of time while she bobs and licks and swirls. He stops himself from tangling his fingers into her braid, settling instead on the back of her neck and squeezing, which makes her lips contract around him, and he feels the moan she lets out all the way down his spine.

 

She lets him pop out of her mouth and runs her tongue over his tip again, and then up and down his length, in tandem with her hand. He feels control slipping away from him, and the tingle at the bottom of his stomach means he isn’t going to last much longer. He tells her so, but she doesn’t seem to hear him, focused on the very movement that’s brought him to the edge. He tries to grab her shoulders and pull her up, and she looks at him with wild eyes.

 

“I’m gonna come,” he says.

 

“Then come inside me,” she responds, and pulls him so deep into her mouth he hits the back of her throat. She moves her mouth over him in a quick pace, taking him all the way in every time, and loud moans start to escape him.

 

“Oh fuck, Tess, I’m coming,” he says, breathlessly, stars behind his eyes, her name falling from his lips again and again.

 

He pulls her up to him afterwards, and they wrap their arms around each other tight. Her back seems to have a golden hue, but he’s not sure how much of it is the tan from her holidays and today’s activities, and how much is a reflection of the sunset, coming in from the narrow beam between the drawn curtains on his window. The room feels warm, especially after what they’ve just done, but he feels a shiver go down her spine.

 

“Tess? Are you okay?” he asks, planting soft kisses on the top of her head.

 

“I’m perfect,” she says, humming under her breath. “And the party’s going amazing, Scott,” she adds, looking up at him with a happy smile.

 

“It is, yeah,” he smiles back, and kisses her softly. She snuggles closer into him.

 

“I needed you.”

 

“Me too. It’s been too long.”

 

“Three days is not ‘too long’, Scott,” she says, giggling.

 

“Yes it is,” he says with a whine. “I couldn’t even have phone sex with you around here,” she laughs harder, “there’s so many people! And kids, and dogs, and cats, you name it. How am I going to survive when you’re in France? Provence isn’t Bayfield, i can’t just pop over for a day trip.”

 

“Can’t you?” She teases. He can feel his eyebrows reach the top of his head.

 

“I don’t want to get murdered in a lavender field by Jordan,” he counters. “Can you guarantee my safety if I show up at your trip with your sister?”

 

He is really starting to hate the little hopeful voice inside him that says, _do it do it do it_.

 

She just smirks, but doesn’t answer his question or offer any assurances on his life. She gets up out of bed, and retrieves both their cellphones from the pocket of his shorts, where he carried them since before the parade. Then, she picks up her ruined dress from the floor where he tossed it earlier.

 

“This dress actually had a zipper, Scott,” she deadpans.

 

“I wanted it ripped.”

 

“So did I.”

 

They exchange a hot, loaded look, but he knows they can’t go down that path again. There will be time, later tonight.

 

He breaks into a grin. “I’ll buy it for you again on Monday, okay?”

 

“Abercrombie & Fitch,” she says.

 

“Done.”

 

She walks over to the chair by the desk, where they left their second outfits this morning. She had leaned into his ear to whisper, _i’ll come pick you up and we’ll get changed together_ , and he absolutely hadn’t realized what she had planned for them.

 

“We have to get dressed. And I think we need to take a shower.” He lets out a dramatic gasp. “ _Not_ that kind of shower, Scott, unless you want _me_ to get murdered in the field across the street by Cara.”

 

They do end up taking a shower together, _not_ that kind, and he behaves himself. He helps lather off the sweat with soap, and washes the bubbles off her with the detachable shower head, managing not to ruin her braid. And, well, if he also manages to give her an orgasm for the road with his fingers, he thinks they’ll let it slide this once.

 

*

 

The end of the night is a smashing success, as far as Scott is concerned. He and Tessa get on stage to deliver their speech to the audience, and he feels a warmth spread across his chest when he hears her speak about how she feels about his town and his people embracing her as one of their own. Then he gets to thank her on behalf of everyone in Ilderton, but what he really means (and she knows it) is that he’ll never be able to stop feeling blessed and grateful that she came into his family’s rink one chilly morning, and changed his life forever.

 

Paul comes out to do his set and the crowd roars with enthusiasm. Scott and Tessa listen to him together, standing close but not _too_ close, very aware of the eyes and cameras set on watching and recording their every move. Paul goes all out, dedicating his most romantic song to them, and he should have known they’d be roasted at their own party, but he can’t bring himself to feel anything other than giddy about it. The song is wedding vows in musical form, essentially, and when Paul sings _this love we're building on will always be here_ , Tessa sneaks him the kind of look that makes him weak, and a grin that makes it all worth it.

 

They get back on stage to say goodnight, and it’s a good thing he can’t really see the faces of the people because of the spotlights, since the cheers alone are pretty overwhelming. He feels the love coming in from all the people who helped him become who he is and gave him kindness over the years. But mostly, he feels the love coming from the incredible woman to his left, and that, he knows, is the most precious thing in the world. He makes a joke to the audience, but his main goal, really, is to make her smile. She throws her head back with laughter, and Scott _knows_ the joke was not that funny, but he’ll cherish it all the same.

 

After they exit, she takes his hand and leads him to the secluded area behind the stage. It’s dark there, and it’s perfect for what they want to do.

 

She steps into his arms and they hold each other close, breathing in and out evenly. Their pulses and breaths sync quickly, and they stand there, soaking in every moment, together, like they always do, like they always will.

 

She pulls her head back ever so slightly, and their eyes meet.

 

“Words aren't enough,” she says, “but thank you. Thank you for these last twenty years.”

 

“Thank _you_ ,” he says back, smiling. “And here’s to twenty more.”

**Author's Note:**

> will i ever be able to write smut without a fluffy ending omg
> 
> comments are love!


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